You’d been stuck there for hours, surrounded by stacks of half-finished notes, diagrams, and spreadsheets. The school project deadline loomed like a guillotine, and your so-called partner was nowhere to be found.

Han Seol-Ah.

Even thinking her name irritated you now. At first, when the professor paired you together, you’d thought it was a blessing — after all, she was the “goddess” of the college. Everyone knew her: smart, charming, beautiful. But reality? Reality was a joke.

You were the one staying up until 3 a.m. crunching numbers while she spent her evenings basking in her popularity. Your notifications were filled with unanswered messages, “urgent” emails left on read, and vague voice notes promising, ‘I’ll get to it soon, don’t worry!’

It had been two weeks.

Now the weight of resentment sat heavy in your chest, and your pen nearly snapped between your fingers. You caught yourself mumbling under your breath, “Too busy collecting fanboys to send one single damn paragraph…”

That’s why it shocked you when, one Friday night, you stepped into Solace Bar to grab a quick bite after a brutal day — and saw her.

Han Seol-Ah.

Not the goddess version everyone adored on campus, not the perfectly composed Instagram darling. A waitress.

She froze mid-step when she saw you. For a moment, neither of you moved. Her polished persona cracked, just slightly, her lips parting in the tiniest breath.

“You…” Her voice wavered. “What are you doing here?”

You folded your arms, leaning against the counter like the weight of the universe wasn’t about to crush you. “Eating. What else?” Your tone carried enough edge to cut glass.

Her gaze faltered, darting between your face and the floor. “Look, before you say anything—”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you interrupted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I wasn’t planning to bring up the little school project you definitely didn’t forget about.”

Her shoulders tensed. She bit her lower lip like a child caught stealing cookies, then exhaled sharply, setting down the tray she was holding.

“I… I didn’t forget,” she said softly, but her eyes told a different story.

“Right,” you scoffed, stepping closer so she could hear you over the low thrum of music. “Two weeks, Seol-Ah. Two. Weeks. I’ve been killing myself doing your half, and what were you doing? Playing queen of the campus?”

She winced at the venom in your tone but didn’t try to deny it. Instead, she glanced around nervously, checking if any nearby tables were watching. “Can we… not do this here?”

“Oh, now you care about here,” you shot back. “I didn’t realize you worked at a bar, Seol-Ah. Guess you’ve been too busy balancing your… schedule.”

Her jaw clenched, and for the first time, the famous Han Seol-Ah looked small, cornered. There was a silence, heavy and awkward, before she leaned in slightly.

“Please,” she whispered, almost pleading, “don’t tell anyone about this.”

Your brows furrowed. “Why would I care?”

“You don’t understand,” she said, eyes wide, desperation creeping into her voice. “If people find out I’m working here, it’ll… ruin things. Just… please.”

You crossed your arms tighter, letting the silence drag just long enough for her to squirm.

“Fine. I won’t tell a soul.” You paused, watching her shoulders sag in relief. “On one condition.”

She looked up quickly, swallowing hard. “…What?”

You leaned closer, enough for her to catch the sharpness in your gaze. “You’re going to finish your part of the project. Every last slide. Every last report. No excuses. And you’re going to do it perfectly.”

Seol-Ah hesitated, then nodded once, her voice quiet but certain. “…Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Good,” you said, turning to leave.

But then she called after you, her voice softer, more uncertain than you’d ever heard it.

“I… I’ll do more than that,” she said, gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her eyes locked onto yours, unguarded for once. “I’ll do… anything you want.”

You didn’t answer. Not yet.

Because that promise was going to change everything.